


Common denominator

by Neurocrat



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: (consensual), Anger at Matt, Choking, Drunk Sex, F/M, Fantasizing about Matt, Oral Sex, POV Foggy Nelson, POV Karen Page, Referenced past Foggy/Matt, Referenced past Karen/Matt, Rough kinky sex, Shared lust for Matt, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 09:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11964741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neurocrat/pseuds/Neurocrat
Summary: Karen squints. “What did he used to wear to bed? When you roomed together?”“Just underwear, usually,” Foggy says.“What kind?” Karen asks, and bites her lip.A couple of times that Karen and Foggy got it on over their lust for Matt.





	1. We drank the eel

“Matt!” Karen cries, laughing, her hand against the door, her mouth close enough to kiss the peeling paint. “Matt, c’mon!”

“We know you’re in there,” Foggy says. “We’re staying out ‘til the sunrise! We’re gonna go to the fishmarket!”

“Matt,” Karen pleads at the door, “Foggy really, really wants you to hang out with us. You’re gonna make him sad if you don’t come out.”

“Yeah, sad,” Foggy says. “I’m already getting sad, Matt!” He turns to Karen, hisses, “how did you know he makes me sad?”

“’Cause he makes _me_ sad,” Karen replies. She heaves a dramatic, drunk sigh, then cracks up, and Foggy starts laughing, too.

“It’s funny,” he giggles, “it’s so funny how sad we are.”

Karen just laughs harder. She puts her face in her hands, back to the door, and slides down it until her butt hits the floor. “ _Matt_ ,” she moans.

“Mmm. Sing it, sister,” says Foggy, thumping down next to her. He puts a palm and the side of his face on Matt’s door, closes his eyes. “Matt, we need you,” he whispers.

Karen leans her head against the door, too. The tip of her nose touches Foggy’s. “I don’t _need_ him,” she scoffs, smiling at Foggy.

“You want him, though,” Foggy says, smiling back.

“ _You_ want him,” Karen accuses back.

“Shhyeah,” Foggy sputters, in a “duh” voice. “I mean, look at him.” He gestures at the door.

Karen looks at the door, laughing. “Yeah, he’s so rectangular and wooden, just my type.”

“No, no, check out these washboard abs,” Foggy says, running his fingers over the ridges in the door.

“Oh my god – it’s just his door, Foggy,” Karen giggles, but she slides her hand over Foggy’s. They look at each other, their giggles still coming out in spurts. “Does he sleep soundly? D’you think we didn’t wake him up?”

“Not very,” Foggy says. Karen’s caressing his fingers, up one finger, down the next one. “My snoring always bothered him, when we roomed together.”

“So he’s probably awake, cursing us,” Karen says. She squints. “What did he used to wear to bed? When you roomed together?”

“Just underwear, usually,” Foggy says.

“What kind?” Karen asks, and bites her lip.

“Dirty girl,” Foggy says. “I’m shocked and offended at you. And, to answer your question, boxer briefs.” He sighs, rolling his eyes up. “Delicious, delicious boxer briefs. He has this _butt_ , Karen.”

“I know, I know.”

“No, you _don’t_ know. You haven’t seen him walking it around in boxer briefs.”

“I _want_ to know,” Karen says. She scoots closer to him, puts her hands on his shoulders and bonks their foreheads together.

Foggy wraps his arms around her, drawing her in. “And his, like, thigh muscles, what are those called? Forceps.”

“Quadriceps.”

“He’s got very well-developed forceps,” Foggy sighs.

Karen strokes Foggy’s hair. “Should we break down his door?” she murmurs.

“Hmm. And what? Ask him if we can touch his butt?”

Karen shrugs. “Mm-hmm, sure. And ask him if…” She changes tack. “What else could you see, in his boxer briefs?” Foggy can feel her breath on his face.

He chuckles, closing his eyes. His fingertips trace circles on her shoulder blades. “Did I call you dirty? I meant filthy. Matt is healthy and robust in the man-parts department, I’ll have you know.”

“So all that time you two lived together,” Karen tilts her head. “Did you guys ever…”

“What?” Foggy plays dumb, smiling. “Did we ever what, Karen?”

“Oh my god, you did do something. Were you guys together?”

Foggy snorts. “I wish.”

“But you hooked up.”

Foggy looks at the ceiling. “Not _per se_. I mean… We got really drunk together sometimes, y’know, and played stupid games…”

“Did you ever kiss him?” He looks back and Karen’s face is right there, so close it takes his slow, drunk eyes a second to focus. She takes his face in her hands and plants her mouth on his before he can answer. The first kiss is clumsy; she sways forward, lacking balance, but she catches herself and kisses him again, lips soft and parted. He takes her by the hips and pulls her into his lap. As they make out, Foggy slides a hand up her rib cage, and she arches forward a little, encouraging, so he squeezes her breast through her dress and bra. She licks his lips.

“What if he came out right now,” Karen pants, as he kisses her neck messily, rubbing his thumb over her nipple.

“He could join in,” Foggy says, and Karen groans, loud.

That’s when Fran sticks her head out the door, fixing the two of them with a tired, cold glare.

\--

Apologies to Fran and a cab ride later, they’re kissing their way up the stairs of Foggy’s place. Their feet keep tangling together until they almost trip. Inside, Karen asks if Foggy has anything to drink.

The self-defeatist voice in Foggy’s head wonders if Karen needs to get even more drunk to be able to hook up with someone like him. He shakes his head to dispel that thought, remembering what Karen was talking about at Josie’s. She’s got some good reasons to want to get smashed, to have a little fun, to forget for a while. Foggy will gladly help her out with that.

They down a couple of vodka shots, kissing in between, and things go a bit blurry from there. Foggy finds himself sprawled on his back on his couch with Karen on top of him. His shirt is  rucked up behind him in a way that would be uncomfortable if he were sober, and for some reason he has the presence of mind to notice that. He unzips Karen’s dress while they kiss, sloppy and wet, and pushes it down from her shoulders. He’s trying to unhook her bra but she pushes his arms down and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

She gets it all the way open. Foggy swallows as she slides her hands up and down his skin. She plants a kiss on his chest and guides one of his arms out of the sleeve. Foggy takes a breath. “I’m, uh. I know I’m not, like… Like, you know.”

“Like what?” Karen slurs. He feels her tongue swipe over his nipple and he gasps.

“Ooh, do that some more,” he begs, grabbing the back of her head and pushing it back against his chest.

She laughs and takes his whole nipple into her mouth, sucking it hard. Foggy cries out, his hips bucking up. She detaches and looks at him. “You’re not like what?”

Foggy tries to focus on her face, panting. He shrugs one shoulder. “Like Matt.”

Karen shakes her head. “Neither am I,” she says. “And yet! Here we are.” She bends down again to kiss him hard. Her hands move all over his bare skin, everywhere he’s soft and rounded and so different from Matt. Her slow, deliberate caresses are like she’s acknowledging it, and she’s eager for his body, she wants to touch him like this. Foggy feels himself flushing.

He could just lay here and let her touch him like that for minutes, for hours (no – he would fall asleep before _hours_ -) but those hands are undoing his belt now, and, yes, that’s good, too.

Foggy is lost in a haze of pleasure with Karen’s hand on his dick through his underwear. It takes him a moment to realize she’s spoken to him. He opens his eyes and carefully, drunkenly reconstructs what she said.

“Tell me about what you want to do with him,” she had said. Her voice had that shake in it she gets when she’s really passionate about something.

There was one other person Foggy ever told about his crush on Matt. That was Marci, who alternately teased him and embarrassingly goaded him to do something about it. So, Marci didn’t get any gory details from Foggy. She had enough power over him as it was.

Foggy has had many thoughts over the years regarding what he’d like to do with Matt. But he has never said any of them out loud. It might be awkward, except he is really drunk, and also Karen is pulling his boxers down now.

“Get down on my knees in front of him,” Foggy says, finally. “Suck his cock. Take it down as deep as I could get it. Mmmm—” Karen is stroking him, no cloth in between— “I’d make it feel so good for him, I’d give him the best blowjob I’ve ever given. Ohhh… Oh, Karen…” This as Karen bends down and licks up his dick, taking it into her mouth, like she’s mirroring what he’s describing.

She pops off for a second and meets his eye. “Would you fuck him?” She asks, out of breath. “Or would he fuck you?”

“All of the above,” Foggy replies, and groans as she sucks his dick up into her mouth again, his head clunking back against the arm of the couch. He’s starting to get too close after a moment, and pats her head to get her to stop.

“Let me … My turn now,” he says, guiding Karen forward by the shoulders and then the hips. She gets the picture, planting a knee on either side of his head and settling down over his face. Her dress is still half-on; he’s in a little dark cave of the folds of the skirt. Between her legs, it’s warm and damp and smells delicious as he presses up in there, nosing and kissing.

Karen is making wonderful noises and pulling his hair, but something is wrong, something is in the way of what Foggy wants, and it takes him a second to understand that her underwear are still on. He reaches up to yank them down, and they work together clumsily to get them off. Foggy gets lightly kneed in the face in the process, but he doesn’t care.

Finally, he can get his tongue against her pussy, can get her juices all over his face. He draws back for a second, though, to keep going with their perverted little game. “Have you… Have you thought about Matt doing this?” He asks, then dives in again, rubbing the flat of his tongue firm from her vagina all the way up to the bump where he knows her clit is. He circles there, and feels her twitch as she makes a little sound through her teeth.

“Of course … I have,” she says, breathily, distracted. “I’d… I’d just shove his face against me, and…” a hand on the back of Foggy’s head, she does just that – “…And ride him.”

Foggy’s muffled cry in response to that encourages her, and she rocks her hips down, smashing herself into Foggy’s face. He tries to get air through his nose while he pulls out all the stops on her clit, all the tricks he’s learned, spit running down where her thighs meet his cheeks. The image of Karen pushing her cunt onto Matt’s face like that, along with what he’s doing to Karen’s real-life cunt, has got Foggy pretty damn hard. The pain in his jaw and the constriction of his breathing just make it even better, especially imagining Matt in the same position, how Matt’s stomach and legs might squirm a little as Karen pressed herself against his face… God.

After a while, Karen starts taking in air in gasps, and Foggy makes sure his tongue is doing maximal friction against her clit. Then her thighs are clenching around his head, she’s pulling his hair so hard it hurts, it hurts _good_ , as she lets out a scream like some kind of scary war-goddess as a rush of fluid runs down his chin. Foggy grabs her hips and holds on and keeps giving it to her as she bucks and writhes and cries out twice more.

Karen collapses over the arm of the couch when she’s finished, limp and letting herself press down onto Foggy’s face. Now he really can’t breathe. He taps on her back, and when she doesn’t respond, pushes more urgently on her hips to get her off him. “Oh – right, sorry,” she laughs, sliding down so she can lay on top of him.

She kisses his messy face. “That was so good,” she says, voice faint, and yawns. Foggy pets her hair as she settles her face against his sternum, and a second later she’s snoring.

Foggy’s dick throbs. He swears quietly, and works a hand in between their bodies to get to it. He jerks himself off under her, which jostles her body, but she’s out cold. He comes thinking about Karen’s hand on him, Matt’s hand on him.

\--

When he wakes up, she’s gone. A scrap of paper says _Thanks_ , with a smiley face. He showers, scrubbing his sticky body, and gets ready for work.

Just one moment they acknowledge it. In the office, they make eye contact while Matt’s talking to both of them, and they smile at each other a little bit. Foggy feels his face get warm, and looks away.

They never talk about it.


	2. We're so done with him

After leaving Matt’s, where there was an older man Matt had never mentioned, and a strange woman in Matt’s bed, Karen has to find Foggy.

She finds him in Josie’s, of course, a stiff drink in front of him. She thunks her purse down on the bar and sits on the stool next to him, as he looks up at her and sighs.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Foggy says, looking back down at his drink. “Me and Matt fighting, I mean. And I’m sorry I wouldn’t talk to you in the courthouse.”

“It’s okay,” Karen says. “You’re not the main person I need an apology from.”

“I know,” Foggy says, and shakes his head, frowning like his drink did something to piss him off. “I apologize on his behalf, too.”

“But you can’t. You can’t, Foggy. He has to. He should also apologize to you.”

“I _know_.” This almost in a growl.

Karen orders a drink of her own, takes a swallow, and turns to Foggy. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Foggy says, and downs his drink. “How about: Drink. Less talking, more drinking.”

She gives him a sad smile and clinks her glass against his. She knows there are things Foggy isn’t telling her, but it’s hard to be mad at him when she can guess at the pressures he’s torn between, the position Matt must have put him in. Someday, she’ll root out the truth herself. For now, less talking and more drinking is something she can get behind.

Several shots later, Foggy’s tongue has loosened up. Not in the sense that he’d spill any of Matt’s secrets; Foggy’s so loyal to Matt that no amount of alcohol could get those out of him. But in the sense that he’s willing to bad-mouth Matt in a vague way, venting.

“He’s an asshole,” Foggy says, sad and vehement.

“He’s a lying sack of shit,” Karen adds, joining in the pleasurable catharsis. It isn’t like there isn’t truth in it.

“You got that right,” Foggy agrees, downing another shot. Karen’s had four since her first drink, but she has slowed down; she’s lost count of Foggy’s. “Why I’m sticking around, putting up with all this, I don’t even know.”

“Because you love him,” Karen says. She focuses on his face with effort, swaying a little on her stool, and he looks back at her with earnest, drunk eyes.

Foggy doesn’t deny it. “The worst part is,” he says, “how much I still want the bastard.”

Karen laughs. “How could we not?”

“You, too?”

“Of course,” Karen says. “But I’m so… I’m so angry at him at the same time. I just…”

“Just want to hate-fuck him?” Foggy finishes for her. She looks up, a little surprised, and he smiles, sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m a little drunk.”

“No, no,” Karen says, getting interested. Memories of the night they drank the eel surface in her head. “Tell me more.”

Foggy looks at her and his face starts going red. She knows he’s thinking about that night, too. He looks embarrassed, and for a second she thinks she shouldn’t push it; she’s about to tell him she was kidding. But when she opens her mouth, Foggy beats her to the punch.

“You know, be a little rough with him,” Foggy says. “Bite his mouth. Push him down on the bed. Climb on top of him, hold him down somehow.”

“I’m not strong enough to hold someone like Matt down,” Karen murmurs, just to see if Foggy will go there.

“Tie him up, then,” Foggy says, not missing a beat. Karen squirms in her seat. He went there. “Make it so he can’t get free, even when he struggles. Wind up and slap him across his pretty face. Hard.”

Karen sucks in air.

“Slap him until he – until he begs for mercy, until he _cries_ ,” Foggy says, and then buries his face in his hands. “Jesus, I’m sorry. God.”

Karen reaches over and slides her hand up his thigh. Foggy looks up at her.

“Let’s get out of here,” she says, her voice thick and deep.

\--

They go to Foggy’s place again. They’re making out on the floor, struggling to get each others’ clothes off and getting stuck in them, but Foggy takes Karen’s hands and hauls her up and leads her to the bedroom, one arm out of her blouse and her skirt hiked up.

She’s a little sad that they left the hard floor - the desperation and harsh discomfort of it - for the modest, comfortable bed, but she sees why Foggy took them there when he opens a dresser drawer, tears open a condom wrapper with his teeth.

“God, yes, fuck me,” Karen says.

He’s careful and slow rolling on the condom and lubing up, frowning in inebriated concentration, while she strips her skirt and panties off and lies back. Then he lines up and jams his cock into her without any preamble. She cries out at the feel of it, a little too tight, a little too rough, exactly what she wants right now. “Yeah. Give it to me,” she says.

He gets one hand deep in the roots of her hair and pulls, hard. It feels so goddamn good - Karen groans, low and sensuous, her eyes rolling back. She imagines Matt doing that to her, and Foggy’s noise means he felt her reaction to that thought, deep inside. He speeds up his pace, and she holds her hips up so he crashes harder into her on each thrust. Her eyes are closed but she feels the brush of his hair on her skin as he leans down to kiss her neck where it joins to her shoulder, and then he bites down, just hard enough to make her gasp.

Karen smacks him on the ass. “Ow!” Foggy says, surprised, and giggles. “Is that what you want to do to Matt? Give him a nice, hard spanking?”

Karen smacks him again. “He doesn’t deserve it,” she says, and Foggy laughs louder, and kisses her.

“Yeah. He would be so lucky to get spanked by you,” Foggy breathes. Sweat is beading on his face. “Me, I just wanna strangle him.”

“Show me,” Karen says, underneath him, caressing his face with one hand.

Foggy looks at her, eyes wide, pausing his movements. “You’re nuts.”

“I mean – not as hard as you want to do it to him,” she amends.

Foggy keeps looking at her, and she looks back, daring him. Finally, he closes a hand around her throat. Gently at first, and then he adds just a little pressure. Karen makes a helpless whimper of pleasure, and Foggy’s hips start moving again as if on their own.

He’s looking a question at her, so she nods furiously, and in response to that his hand tightens more. Her eyes slide closed. She can still breathe fine, but she can feel the constriction, the threat or promise of even more constriction, and that’s what’s getting her off so much.

“You wanna do this to Matt,” Karen croaks, looking up at Foggy through slitted eyes. “Squeeze the breath out of him while you – _uh_ – while you pound him?”

“Oh God,” Foggy cries, letting go of her throat and throwing his head back. He loses control of his motions. The idea of him choking Matt, and how that idea made him come, is enough to bring her right up to the brink, too. She closes her eyes, feeling all of Foggy slamming into her, listening to Foggy’s cries of pleasure, and thinks about if Matt made those happen: it pushes her peak up a notch. She screams and bucks her body into Foggy’s while he finishes, shuddering.

Foggy rolls off her and lays on his back, panting. Karen turns to him and lifts herself up on an elbow to look down at his face.

“We’re both such… Suckers,” he says, in a soft voice. Karen thinks he sounds a little sad, almost, and she combs her fingers through his hair to soothe him.

“You know, we didn’t even fuck,” Karen says, suddenly. “Me and Matt.”

Foggy looks at her. “You didn’t?”

She shakes her head. “We just … Messed around.”

Foggy laughs, and there’s an edge in it. “Yeah. Same here.” Karen is quiet, and she waits. Foggy’s brow is furrowed; she can see that he has more to say if she’s patient. “But, different. In our case, we weren’t ever even dating. He didn’t acknowledge … There was nothing official.”

 _There hardly was with us, either_ , Karen thinks, but she sees the expression on Foggy’s face and knows saying that wouldn’t help. Instead, she cuddles up to Foggy’s side and puts her arm around him, nuzzling her face into his neck.

“I’m all sweaty and gross,” Foggy protests, but Karen shushes him, and caresses his soft chest and stomach. They’re quiet for a little while, and Karen feels her eyelids drooping.

Foggy takes in a breath. “I have to end it,” he says.

Karen opens her eyes. “End it?”

“I have to get some space,” Foggy continues. “From Matt. For my own good.”

“How can you get space from him,” Karen says, “when you two… Wait. You mean…”

Foggy nods. “I think it’s time I went back to working for some faceless corporate firm.”

“You’d leave Nelson and Murdock?” Karen asks.

Foggy scrubs his hands over his face. “I don’t know. I don’t want to, you know? We built this thing together, but now he’s just letting it fall apart. I don’t know what I want.”

Karen sees it coming. She knows what Foggy will decide, and it hurts her heart, but it hurts worse to think about Foggy staying in this trainwreck. She’s going to have to decide for herself, too. Whether to stay on as Murdock’s assistant. She already knows, if she lets herself examine it, what the answer will be.

She kisses his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I love him,” Foggy tells her. He doesn’t think he’s decided yet, but by his voice, he’s mourning his departure from the firm already. Departure from Matt.

“I know,” Karen says. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible upcoming post-Defenders 3rd chapter with sad grief-sex, if I decide I want to pour on an even thicker coat of angst


End file.
